


The High Priestess

by reinadefuego



Category: NCIS
Genre: Community: ncis_drabble, Drabble, First Meetings, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 02:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10066811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reinadefuego/pseuds/reinadefuego
Summary: First impressions are important, so they say, but Trent's sick of judging books by their covers. She's young and comes highly recommended, so why does something feel off?Written for challenge #119 - "beginnings" at ncis_drabble.





	

**_Camp Peary, May 2000_ **

"Welcome to the Farm."

After everything . . . this was it? Charlie sighed and kept following her father, his cane flicking mud up each time it struck the ground. Long black hair tied up in a ponytail, she'd come dressed ready for war. Who knew what her father had up his sleeve for initiation day. Instead of dumping her with the other recruits, he'd called in a favour. They understood she'd already been put through her paces in the past three years, so there was no need to drop her off amongst the amateurs.

Where were they going? Marcin was leading her away from the buildings, towards the distant river and jetty. Charlie swallowed and summed up every fragment of courage she had left. Her hands were trembling when she shoved them in her pockets, but she couldn't let her nerves show.

"A former student of mine will take you to your room later. Do you remember the Englishman I told you about?"

"Tak." _Yes._

"You have to speak English now. Zyeta, please. This has been many years in the making."

"Charlie," she corrected him. It was Charlie now. Charlie Hayes. She wasn't Elzbieta anymore. _You're American now, remember?_

"Dr Jerek," Trent said, stepping out from the shade of the boat shed. Sweat lined his forehead and the humidity made him want to itch.

"Charlie, this is Kort. He'll be training you," Jerek said. He patted her on the shoulder and turned around to leave. A failed student teaching one who had yet to disappoint him? Bad influences would be abound, but he had faith in her resolve.

The sound of his cane was the only thing that broke the silence. Charlie gripped the right strap of her backpack and waited. The sooner they reached wherever she was meant to be going, the longer she could sleep.

"Why the CIA?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why did you choose to join the CIA?" Trent said.

There was something wrong about her. Whether it was her patient blue eyes, or Jerek hand-delivering her to his doorstep, Charlie made him want to crawl under a rock and fetch a shotgun for protection. That was never a good sign.

"I needed a job."

"Can you shoot?" Trent said, fetching a pistol from a secure lockbox. He wasn't going to waste his time if she couldn't hit a target from a hundred metres. The sooner he sorted the herd out, the quicker his job was over and he could go back to England.

"Yes."

"So how do you know the good doctor?"

"He's my recruiter."

"He's a teacher, not a —"

She feigned realisation, as if some great puzzle had been solved in her mind. "What did you say your name was again?"

There was something wrong with her accent too. It was fake. "Trent Kort, and you are?"

 _Just tell him. The sooner he knows, the sooner you can stop hiding._ "I'm Marcin's daughter."

That explained her eyes, accent. "Polish?"

"No one can know."

"Your secret's safe with me."


End file.
